


Mistress of Disguise

by yareyare4daze



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: (sort of), Bathroom Sex, Conrart spelled Conrad, Drag, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jozak looks sexy in drag and Conrad can't deal basically, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Yozak spelled Jozak, genderfluidity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yareyare4daze/pseuds/yareyare4daze
Summary: Jozak and Conrad are given a rare opportunity to spend some time alone together when Conrad is sent along on one of Jozak's missions as backup. Of course, Jozak intends to exploit this opportunity to finally draw a confession out of his childhood best friend... using his best weapon, of course
Relationships: Yozak Gurrier/Conrart Weller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. A Long, Hard Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom/pairing. I mostly read Yuuram but wanted to start off with a pairing for which I haven't already saturated my brain with content lol. I know this fandom is ancient but I just discovered KKM this year so I hope other newbies will also enjoy!

Conrad watched, eyes squinting, a sympathetic cringe twisting at his mouth as Jozak spread a long strip of hot wax down his leg lengthwise. “Is this really necessary?” he asked Jozak tersely.

Jozak made a noise that made it clear to Conrad he was only half-listening. He knelt down next to his best friend, the cringe on his face intensifying.

Apparently, Jozak _had_ been listening.

He chuckled at Conrad’s expression. “This ain’t even the bad part,” he said with a sly grin. “It’s actually pretty relaxing . . .”

Conrad knit his brow, even more intent now, as Jozak laid a similarly-sized strip of cloth over the wax-covered shank of his leg, smoothing it out. “Now comes the fun,” Jozak chirped. Then he stuck another rolled-up cloth between his teeth. “ t‘ree, ‘oo—”

Conrad’s jaw dropped as he watched his friend rip the strip of cloth off his leg with a spine-chilling _rrrriiiiip,_ leaving a swath of alabaster (quickly reddening) hairless skin in its wake. “W-why…?” Conrad stammered, absolutely flummoxed.

To his disbelief, Jozak actually _laughed_ at him for the petrified face Conrad was currently making, the folded cloth falling out of his mouth. “’Why?’” he repeated, _far_ too jovially for someone who just _ripped all that_ —Conrad shivered again. “I mean, why not? It feels so nice afterwards, and honestly, it’s not so bad once you’ve gotten used to doing it.”

“’ _Used to doing it?’”_ Conrad echoed incredulously. “I couldn’t even imagine.” He found himself having to turn away as Jozak prepared a second strip right next to where the first had been laid, unable to watch the next assault on that lovely—er, luckless—skin. Regardless, he still winced when he heard that second _rrrriiiiiip!_

Amazingly, Jozak took only a second to recover before adding, “Sure. After all, I’ve been waxing myself since I was, like, 42. A child, basically. I’ve grown accustomed to the pain over the decades.” The next rip came with a grunt that seemed to contradict that sentiment, in Conrad’s opinion. Jozak sucked in a sharp breath, and Conrad reflexively spun around, as if to defend his friend from the offending wax. “That said,” Jozak admitted, “It is easier when you don’t let the hair grow out so long between treatments. I’ve been remiss.”

Conrad furrowed his brow again. It seemed like Jozak was mostly done with the first leg, and was moving on to do small touch-ups with pieces of discarded cloth. “Wait, so this isn’t for—?”

Jozak glanced up at him. “The disguise? Well, I timed it so that they’d be fresh for tomorrow. But no, I just do it for me mostly.”

 _Mostly._ Conrad heard that last word echo in his mind. _Mostly for himself and partially for the disguise? Or is it partially also to impress someone?_ He couldn’t help but wonder, another sour look twisting his normally unaffected face—this time for a different reason. He sat down on the toilet lid adjacent to Jozak, suddenly just the slightest bit preoccupied. Jozak glanced back at him again and, noticing the twist in his expression, laughed softly and shook his head.

“All the life-threatening missions I’ve gone out on and _this_ is what you’re bothered about?” he quipped.

Conrad let out a half-laugh, suddenly none too enthused about the idea of Jozak cuddling up to someone, flaunting those smooth, muscled legs in some strange person’s bed. Not that he had any claim to Conrad’s of course, that was ridiculous. It had been just one time (or maybe two times . . . in the cloud of drink he sometimes couldn’t remember) that anything had ever come to pass between them, and _hardly_ anything of the sort where a bed would be involved! Conrad suddenly realized he was overanalyzing himself again and put a stop to those thoughts before they could get any further out of hand. He also realized he’d sort of zoned out there for a moment when he glanced up and found Jozak smirking at him.

“What?” he asked the orange-haired man.

Unexpectedly, Jozak flung his legs up on the ledge of the sink, so that his shins were less than a foot away from Conrad’s nose. “ _Now_ feel ‘em!”

“F-“ Conrad briefly stuttered, then almost dutifully, as if he were simply carrying out orders, set his palm on his best friend’s shin, trying to keep his face concealed so he wouldn’t blush like an embarrassed child. Really, it was more like his hand was hovering above Jozak’s leg, as if it were a hoseki stone he was afraid to touch, until Jozak carelessly brought his own hand down upon Conrad’s and forced his hand up and down that smooth shin.

“Isn’t it _niiice?_ ” he drawled, either haplessly oblivious over how much this simple action had affected Conrad or (no, no, it was a thought he ought not to even _consider_ —) he was intentionally being flirtatious.

Conrad forced himself to keep his voice steady, and even managed a good-natured smile. If it were anybody else, the act most certainly would (and _should_ ) have been read as flirting. But this was Jozak Gurrier, the most natural flirt that had ever lived (Wolfram had no _idea,_ suggesting Yuuri), who was more than occasionally given to ‘playful’ looks and suggestive quips, along with extended touches that _really_ were starting to take their toll on Conrad’s health.

As of, about, 20 years ago.

“Yeah, it is,” he admitted, cautiously pulling his hand away. “Worth the pain, I suppose. For some,” he added quickly, just in case Jozak was tempted to entertain the idea that Conrad himself might want to partake in this brutal and unparalleled test of courage, which he certainly did not.

But Jozak simply smiled good-naturedly. “Exactly! Besides, it’s me after all, not you. You can get that constipated look off your face now,” he chuckled.

Conrad opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and simply returned the smile. Perhaps it would be better to keep his friend believing that it was only the act of waxing itself that so disturbed him, so as not to betray those other long-suffering emotions that had refused to lie dormant in his breast for the better part of a century now. One day, he knew, Jozak might be made aware—either he himself would find himself furiously confessing his feelings for his friend in a moment of weakness, or Jozak, the spy that he was, would figure it out on his own terms. Either way, Conrad preferred to believe that confrontation could wait another century . . . preferably two. He would rather lose his left arm again than lose his lifelong best friend.

* * *

As soon as he’d finished cleaning up the makeshift waxing salon he’d set up in the grimy hostel bathroom (which was not bad at all, if he said so himself), Jozak stepped out past Conrad, reading quietly in the single bed set up across from his, and onto the balcony.

Normally Jozak would be worried about blowing his cover, standing so brazenly out on a balcony not long after sunset in a village where he was supposed to be undercover, but this particular village didn’t seem like it was exactly on high alert. The hostel owner hardly looked at Conrad when he approached the front desk asking for a room and didn’t bother looking at Jozak at all. He had to scoff. Imagine living in a world where one _didn’t_ find himself keeping watch on all sides at all hours of the day in case of an attempt on his livelihood, the lives of his loved ones, or his own life. “Must be nice,” Jozak had muttered to himself as he passed by the front desk without earning a glance. He’d like to live in that world.

If Jozak had known the hostel owner would be so lax, hell, he would have marched up to the desk himself and ordered the room for them, and he wouldn’t have worn the half-assed disguise in that was supposed to allow him to pass as Conrad’s wife ( _or mistress_ , he added, cheekily to himself—though it was no fun without Conrad around to blush at his playful flirtations). And if he _had_ been the one to order the room, he could have forced Conrad to wait in the lobby, then pulled the ol’ “Well shucks, they only have single-bed suites!” which would have allowed him to make _slightly_ better use of the only span of days he and Conrad had gotten to spend alone together in at least a decade.

Mission or no mission, Jozak intended to make the most of these few days, gods help him.

He’d already tried to make a move on Conrad once so far by luring him into the salon (fine, _bathroom_ ) while he was waxing. This was a classic move, as Conrad would then a). be forced to confront Jozak partially nude (wearing only a bathrobe), b). get to witness Jozak’s impressive fortitude and willpower as he coolly ripped all the hair off of his overgrown legs (yeah, that did not feel good), which would stir both arousal and concern in his friend (hopefully), and c). just to cement the effectiveness of the previous step, he would have an excuse to get Conrad to _touch him_. He knew it was cruel, as he could see the extent to which Conrad was holding back in the severe blush coloring his tawny cheeks, but Jozak had just about had it up to here with the “holding back” act.

He knew Conrad wanted him. And he _knew_ he wanted Conrad. It was time for this silly dance they’d been doing for however long it had been since it started to come to an abrupt, sexy end. And Jozak intended to do just that in these next few days, even while executing a perfect scouting mission, thank you very much.

Still, Jozak couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh, letting his chin rest on the rusted balcony as he ruminated. The bathroom situation had been a bust, as Conrad had looked entirely too platonic while Jozak moved his hand up and down his just-waxed, smooth as marble skin. Hell, he’d let the hair grow out to the point where the waxing would be painful _just_ for that exchange of touch, and what had it gotten him? Nothing.

The bed situation was also a bust, not that there was much Jozak could do about that. Even if he was childish enough to pull a Wolfram and sneak into Conrad’s bed in the night (which he was not, no offense Wolfram), the single bed was hardly large enough for someone of Jozak’s size to sleep comfortably in alone, let alone two people of his (approximate) size sharing.

Jozak straightened up and stretched his arms against the balcony bar, bending forward like a cat. _Well, what’s done is done_ , he thought to himself. There was no helping the things that had come to pass (or hadn’t), and Jozak knew he’d only damn his further efforts by feeling bad for himself now. Confidence is sexy, right? _And you know what else is sexy—_ Jozak suddenly thought, bolting up. He went back inside and past Conrad, who was now snoring lightly, the book he’d been reading still open and face down on his stomach, which earned a soft chuckle from Jozak. Returning to his task, Jozak carefully slipped out the door with a modest amount of currency in hand, then decided to hit the town, to find himself a better disguise.

* * *

Conrad was having a . . . ahem . . . _hard time._

The night of the mission, he was to serve as Jozak’s chauffer and later backup on the scene just in case anything ran amiss. It wasn’t likely to be a very tricky operation, though the large, bustling casino with a few dozen burly-armed men with two or three weapons each made a quick retreat in the case of Jozak’s intel plan going awry a slightly more complicated affair. Hence, Conrad would be an extra pair of eyes and ears (not to mention sword) that would clear an exit, if you will, if need be.

As Conrad drove the carriage, sneaking crafty glances from time to time behind him and pretending to check out the path when really he was checking out his rear-seated passenger, he certainly hoped his services would not be needed this particular night. The reason why being seated right behind him in a _tight_ black corset with flowing red skirts, fishnet stockings, high-heeled shoes, and carefully painted red lips. Conrad felt himself flush with each stolen glance, reprimanding himself for having so little self-control. Josak’s muscular arm was perched on the windowsill, his chin resting in his gloved hand as he looked out the window pensively, probably running the ins and outs of the plan through his mind while Conrad was thinking pretty much anything but.

What was it about Jozak’s disguises that made him _such_ a convincing woman? Conrad couldn’t stop himself from wondering, awestruck. For such a tall, broad man, one would think female disguises would be considered off the table for this spy, but no. He gravitated towards them and _rightfully so._ He was a master in women’s clothing. Conrad gulped. And quite striking. It must be the way he holds himself, his mannerisms, Conrad thought. When in disguise, he _oozes_ femininity with a grace that rivals Günter. And honestly, that’s saying something.

Even in the carriage, when they were still several minutes out from their destination, Conrad could tell Jozak had already assume his role in each of his slightest movements. Hell, he already had when they were getting prepared for the night in the hostel room. The way he’d applied the lipstick with one hip cocked, bent over the sink. The way he sashayed around the room with a noticeable sway in his hips while looking for his shoes.

And yet, through all this, Conrad had to admit to himself that the slight discomfort he’d been experiencing on and off in the front of his pants throughout the night (which was still _painfully_ young) was not due to the idea of this hypothetical woman that had transformed in front of his eyes. It was because it was Jozak. It was seeing that smooth expanse of porcelain skin over that taut, muscled back as Conrad laced his friend up for the night (while Jozak continually urged him “ _tighter_ Conrad, we don’t want the goods falling out!”). It was seeing, _experiencing_ Jozak in this other form of his that Conrad, as much as he wanted to deny it, found so, _so_ very . . .

Attractive. Very, very attractive.

When they arrived at the gate of the Mudblood Casino and Conrad pulled the horses to a stop, the recently pensive Jozak suddenly smacked his lips together and smiled with sparkling eyes, throwing his elbow up on Conrad’s shoulder, and saying genially into his ear, “All right, let’s get ‘er done!”

Conrad felt his whole body shift in his skin when Jozak squeezed his shoulder then made to get out of the carriage.

Just then, Conrad came back to his senses. “Wait!” he said, remembering his own act, and quickly swung his way out of the driver’s seat, momentarily forgetting his discomfort as he made it over to open the door for Jozak. He extended his hand, using every last ounce of his willpower to stop it from shaking. There were eyes on them now, and they were both very aware of it.

“Why, thank you darling,” Jozak lilted, gracefully gathering his skirts and swinging his heeled feet out of the carriage and landing deftly on the ground as he held delicately onto Condrad’s hand.

Conrad smiled, hoping he wasn’t flushing. “Much obliged.”

He and Jozak parted then with only a look passed between them, and Conrad tried not to gaze to long after the other man as he confidently strutted towards the entrance, a fluttering paper fan in hand. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and cautiously made his way around to a side entrance. Yes, indeed, this would be a long, hard night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut is coming. Trust me ;)
> 
> Basically, I like to write one shots in pieces and post them bit by bit so that I remain motivated to work on them. Next chapter should come very soon!


	2. Red-handed Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jozak learns the mission's target, a dissenting noble, was really just a false alarm and plans to tell Conrad so they can retire for the night. However, when he enters the bathroom of the casino, he finds his friend in quite a compromising position . . .

_Well, at least this ended up being much easier than we thought._ Jozak sighed to himself, reminding himself he couldn’t complain. He was sitting in the corner of what appeared to be a smoking patio, drafting a note to Gwendal to sum up the gist of the false alarm Jozak had just found himself faced with so that the details of the report remained crisp . . . Not that there were many to note, but Jozak prided himself on his conscientiousness.

_Captain ~_

_Admittedly, I haven’t much to say about this one. Lord Von Elkram, the owner of the Mudblood Casino in Gregaria appears to be not quite right in the head. I am certain I have the man who made threats against His Majesty’s life in the report: short, stout mazoku around 330 years, wears a wig of dyed, forest green hair and two to three rings per meaty finger, two of which bear the seal of the Von Elkram clan. However, today he was singing nothing but the most earnest of praises in His Majesty’s honor, declaring him the fittest king Shin Makoku has seen in generations. According to his familiars, this is not uncommon behavior on his part, as the Lord regularly makes such sweeping statements for and against political leaders and family members alike . . . Needless to say, I don’t doubt that our business should be wrapped up here rather soon, though I’d rather not be too hasty and instead plan to do a quick survey in my next few days here to ensure that no other Gregarians are feeling moved by his Lordship’s prior curses. If His Majesty does not require Lord Von Weller’s services, I should appreciate his help in this brief endeavor._

_Sincerely, J.G._

_PS: Please do not go out of your way to bring charges against his Lordship Von Elkram, unless my further investigations reveal more damning information—I truly feel sorry for the old man more than anything, as most regard him as simply an old fool around here, nothing more._

Jozak glanced back at the gambling hall at said buffoon as he sealed his letter, entrusting it to his trusty carrier pigeon. “Perhaps I shouldn’t feel so much pity for him,” he murmured thoughtfully as he watched the old rich Lord being fawned over by half a dozen beautiful young mazoku women.

But his reveries were cut short by the approach of a swaggering, dusty blonde, middle-aged Gregarian mazoku man whose eyes were fixed on Jozak. _Oh gods,_ he cursed in annoyance to himself. The man smiled as he came close, and began, leaning confidently on the rail, “Now, what’s a tall drink of gooseberry wine like yourself doing out here, Missy?”

Jozak did the best he could not to physically recoil at the man’s pitiful attempt at courting him. Instead, he smiled stiffly and responded, “Why, just writing a letter to my husband, actually. He’s at home staying with our two children so I can have a night off for ladies’ night.” Jozak even cast his eyes at the women he’d previously been fraternizing with for good measure. They waved to one another, and Jozak took that as his opportunity to break from the now soured _gentleman_ who had accosted him.

After he departed from the creep’s sight, he turned away from the group of women and towards the bathrooms at the rear of the building. “Ugh, men are pigs,” he muttered. Then, he added, joking to himself, “As a woman, I deserve better.”

He grinned, lightening his own mood with his playful internal banter, as he swung open the door to the bathroom. _And as a man, I deserve . . ._

Before Jozak could finish that thought, he froze, suddenly noticing some . . . _lewd_ noises coming from the final stall of the restroom. He was just about to see himself out, when he heard a hoarse voice breathe out, “Jozak, _please . . ._ ”

At the sound of Conrad’s voice, Jozak’s whole body froze with his eyes wide and painted lips slightly parted. For a moment, he simply could not compute what was occurring, couldn’t put the sound of Conrad’s voice together with the sound of . . . _that._ But as he slowly put two and two together, he crept towards the wooden door that guarded that final stall, lifting his heels so as not to make _click-click_ -ing noises on the tile floor.

Now the voice was unmistakable. “Ungh, Jozak . . .” Conrad said tersely under his breath as Jozak peered through the crack in the door and beheld a sight he never in ten thousand lifetimes thought he’d see.

Conrad was standing half clothed over the toilet, trousers bunched around his knees, the perfect globes of his smooth ass cheeks right on display for Jozak to ogle at. His body was tensed, one calloused hand pressed against the wall as his other was . . . otherwise occurpied. With what, Jozak couldn’t see, but he could infer with a single guess.

Being the decent man he was, and certain he’d release in his own g-string briefs if he stood watching this any longer, Jozak took a step back to collect himself, letting his heels drop intentionally on the floor.

The sounds stopped.

Jozak steeled himself, but couldn’t help the grin that was spreading across his face as he murmured softly, “Conrad, darling, care to let me in?”

“Jo-“ Jozak could hear Conrad’s voice catch in his throat. He cursed, hoping his forwardness hadn’t been too much. But what was Conrad going to do? Stay in that stall, half-naked and cowering all night? Jozak knew his friend was no coward.

‘Friend.’ _Ha._

To his dismay, Jozak heard the sound of pants being pulled up and a zipper. Shortly after, Conrad dutifully opened the door and bowed deeply to Jozak, who’d poised himself with one hand on the doorframe, leaning with a hip cocked.

“Jozak, I sincerely apologize, I don’t know what got—”

“Oh, hush, hush,” Jozak said to him, bringing his gloved hand up to cup Conrad’s strong jaw and lead him up slowly to meet Jozak’s desire-filled eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing to apologize for, I can assure you.”

He gently pushed a wide-eyed Conrad back into the stall, letting his hands drift down the other man’s firm, broad chest. ‘Jo . . . Jozak . . .” Conrad said, more tersely now.

“Forgive my eavesdropping but from what I heard, you haven’t yet released, have you?’

Conrad gulped, flushing deep red as Jozak’s hands reached his waist and drew him closer.

Jozak felt electricity surging through every molecule of his body as he whispered, “May I?”

“Yes,” Conrad breathed back. ‘Please, yes.’

Jozak locked the stall door.

* * *

If he hadn’t already been so absorbed in his lust when Jozak miraculously showed up outside the very door of the stall where Conrad had moments earlier been pleasuring himself, _calling his friend’s name_ (curse his vocalizations), Conrad’s pride might have prevented him from accepting Jozak’s offer.

Now, instead, Conrad was hunched over the toilet with both hands pressed against the warming tile wall, his back and bottom arching into Jozak’s warmth as the other man’s hand wrapped around his aching member. Jozak stroked him up and down, spending particular care as his rough fingers flicked over the tip, spreading precum down his length. Now that his fantasies were presently being fulfilled (though he still half disbelieved it) Conrad attempted to keep his voice in check, biting his lower lip to stop himself from calling the other man’s name or spilling any other lewdities that might fall on _less_ welcome ears.

Conrad’s breathing came in quick huffs as he neared his climax, and he couldn’t help but grind his backside into Jozak’s growing hardness and arch helplessly into his friend/lover’s chest. Noticing this, Jozak’s hand began to move faster up and down his shaft as he kissed the side of Conrad’s neck, his breath dampening that crevice with warm moisture.

“I’m going to—” Conrad said breathlessly, cut off by his own orgasm as his back arched deeply and a warm shiver surged throughout his body. Jozak helped him ride the orgasm all the way out, stroking him more slowly now as Conrad’s heaving body began to be filled with the warm feeling of afterglow, which was coupled by the feeling of Jozak’s strong arms wrapping around his body and pulling him close in a tender embrace. Conrad’s heart swelled in spite of himself at the feeling of Jozak’s gentle and reassuring touch as he planted kisses on Conrad’s neck.

Then, remembering himself, Conrad bent down to retrieve his trousers that were pooled around his ankles and reach for tissues to wipe up the mess he had undoubtedly made.

When his hand stopped mid-motion, realizing that there was actually a stunning _lack_ of mess around the toilet, Jozak chuckled behind him. “Good aim, eh?”

Conrad laughed back. “I guess you could say that.” He found himself turning around to face Jozak, suddenly uncertain of what to do. After all, what was the protocol for when your best friend from childhood and closest life-long confidant who you’ve loved for decades in secrecy helps you reach climax in the bathroom stall of a casino? Conrad was relatively certain he’d never read such a protocol.

But fortunately, he didn’t have long to flounder, because Yozak grasped him by the face and brought their lips together in a slow, deliberate, proper kiss that made Conrad’s heart pound with all the emotions he’d been suppressing for so, so terribly long. _Finally,_ Conrad thought.

After a time, the kiss began to deepen further, tongues beginning to brush against lips and then each other, later intertwining. Jozak pressed his hips flush against Conrad’s and Conrad suddenly noticed that the other man was hard. He, too, was beginning to feel second stirrings within him, which was definitely not ideal considering their not-so-private current location.

As if reading his mind, Jozak suddenly broke away with a sigh. “I think we need to get out of here, Weller.”

Conrad smiled, almost relieved to hear his old nickname spoken by his friend-turned-lover while in the other man’s arms. He pursed his lips gravely in response. “You might just be right, Gurrier.”

Still, Conrad felt himself leaning in as Jozak pulled him into one last kiss. Breaking apart, he rubbed a thumb over Conrad’s puffy, now lipstick-reddened lips. “Hmm . . . you know, I must say, the color suits you though.” Conrad let out a laugh as Yozak went to unlock the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for part 3! I really don't know how long this thing will go, but I will be sure to let you know if we're nearing an end or what you can expect next. I might add some real plot or even draw this out to a longer story depending on where my mind's at and what the responses are like. I'm used to writing only one-shots, but I can see a few paths for this one to follow! For now, expect some more smut incoming verrry soon ;)


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